


Doctor, Doctor

by DriftDive



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Rating subject to change, Talon!Mercy, yes you read that correctly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-10-25 01:51:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10754262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DriftDive/pseuds/DriftDive
Summary: The Doctor is mysterious. Terrifying. Deadly.Still, Widowmaker feels drawn to her.---Mercymaker where I repeatedly injure everyone's favorite medic





	1. Chapter 1

As the sun falls below the city's horizon, Widowmaker barely feels the temperature drop.

She scans the street below slowly through her scope, wondering if their mark will show today. Most likely, they won't.

"I wonder, once again, why am I here?" The figure beside her says. Widowmaker isn't even sure they're talking to her.

"To heal me," Widowmaker responds simply, and the doctor laughs dryly.

"You must be a terrible shot if you bring such attention to yourself. Do you get shot at often due to missed shots?"

Widowmaker feels a prick of annoyance up her spine, and the need to defend herself rises in her chest.

"I never miss."

"If you say so."

Widowmaker finally lowers her scope, relaxing her tense shoulders. She must have been sitting for hours, still as a statue.

Still, if the mark hasn't shown up by now, they probably aren't showing up at all. Bad intel.

She hears the doctor sigh. She turns to look at her, catching her swiping a hand along the beak of her plague doctor-esque visor. The city lights below illuminate her, the dark colors of the mask contrast with the deep red of the cybernetic wings on her back.

Widowmaker squints, scrutinizing the doctor's mask. She can barely see the doctor's eyes from behind the deep red of the visor's sockets, similar in color to her own visor.

It's ugly, Widowmaker thinks suddenly, and the thought surprises her. Why did she think that?

"Why are you staring at me," the doctor asks, barely turning to look to Widowmaker. Widowmaker doesn't falter as she responds, "I hate your mask."

The doctor seems to chuckle at that. She raises her hands to the back of her head, unclipping the bindings that hold the mask in place. She grabs hold of both sides of the mask, tugging it off.

The doctor blinks, once, twice, then looks to Widowmaker again. Widowmaker finds herself studying the doctor's features. Funny, she thinks, she hasn't been this close to the doctor without her mask on.

Her eyes are the color of cold steel, but it doesn't seem right. Then again, nothing about the doctor seems right.

"Forgive me. I'm hard of sight without my visor," the doctor says.

"Are you," Widowmaker responds quietly, reaching out to the doctor's face. True to her words, the doctor's eyes don't follow her hand at all.

"You're blind."

"In a manner of speaking."

No, that's not right- somewhere, deep in her memories, Widowmaker remembers deep blue eyes. Ones that saw the scope of everything- patients, their health, the world-

She winces as a pain runs through her skull, forcing her to look away.

Silence falls between them. The doctor moves to put the visor back on, but Widowmaker stops her.

"Leave it off."

"I can't see."

"You don't need to-"

I'll watch over you, Widowmaker thinks, and the thought repulses her.

"The mark isn't coming. It's been six hours."

"Oh, joy- I love wasting precious time," she sighs, stretching. She shudders, and the wings embedded in her shoulders rattle.

"Be silent."

"No one is showing up anyway. You said so yourself."

Widowmaker huffs, the headache ebbing off bit by bit. Well, she had a point.

No one was coming, that's for sure.

***

They don't cross paths again for days. It's at a mission briefing the next time Widowmaker spots her, hovering by the doorway to the briefing hall.

Its jarring when the doctor passes her, concealed behind that ghastly mask. She takes a seat, and Widowmaker notices the step back everyone seems to take.

She's terrifying, no doubt about it.

Regardless, Widowmaker takes a seat beside her. She'd like to imagine everyone taking another step back, but something tells her that her cold attitude can't come close to matching the outward appearance of the doctor.

She peers at Widowmaker from behind her visor for a long minute, and it makes Widowmaker shift in her seat. The deep red of the mask's eyes bore into her.

Finally, the doctor chuckles, perhaps at Widowmaker's apparent discomfort.

"Widowmaker."

"Doctor."

***

Widowmaker sees the doctor's true power during their next mission. It was supposed to be a simple infiltration to gain some of Overwatch's lost secrets at the abandoned Watchpoint in Gibraltar, but It had gone south. Someone must have tipped Overwatch off to the heist. Now, the previously vacant watchpoint was filled with talon and overwatch operatives, gunning each other down without mercy.

As Widowmaker silently shoots down countless soldiers from a spot on a rooftop, she catches a glimpse of the doctor in her scope.

Lowering her rifle in confusion, she watches as the doctor steps through the fighting, around bodies and bullets.

It's a single, curt word that strikes absolute terror into allies and enemies alike.

"Rise," the doctor utters, raising her left hand. In an instant, the dead rise- whatever uniform they wore meant nothing now. They belong to the doctor.

She points at living overwatch agents, who freeze upon seeing their risen comrades move. Thy don't stare for long. Bullets fall from the risen's guns, killing indiscriminately.

Widowmaker feels something, akin to disgust- but some intrigue underneath it all.

The doctor stands in the fighting still, barely moving. The living Overwatch agents turn tail and bolt, terror licking their heels.

Widowmaker freezes when she sees the doctor's head turn, the disgusting red eye of the mask meeting hers.

"Merde," Widowmaker curses, tearing her gaze away from the doctor to fire a few last shots at the fleeing Overwatch agents.

The doctor was a disgusting creature.


	2. Chapter 2

"Your tattoo," the doctor says during another stakeout. They're on a roof somewhere in Hollywood.

"What," Widowmaker replies, never looking away from her scope. She hated looking at that cursed mask the doctor wore.

"It means 'nightmare,' no?"

"So, you can read a French to English book."

The doctor says nothing, offering no acknowledgement. A long minute passes.

"Why nightmare?"

Widowmaker scowls.

Was she supposed to know why?

"It is for hand to hand combat, I'm sure. To frighten my enemies."

The doctor tilts her head, leaning closer to Widowmaker.

"Is that so? Odd, you're a sniper. Do you get into fist fights often?"

"..."

"You don't know why it's there."

Widowmaker's scowl deepens. Why was the doctor pushing the subject?

"Mind your nose, doctor."

The doctor taps the tip of the beak against Widowmaker's head, making her jolt in surprise.

"Ah, apologies. I'd better mind my nose."

"Your humor is... quite the tragedy."

***

Rarely, does Widowmaker ever contract an illness- such a thing should kill her, given her current state. But it doesn't, because the mercy of death is beyond her reach.

Thus, she must deal with an illness like any normal human would.

She visits the doctor in her quarters.

The door is unlocked, and she simply walks inside.

"Doctor."

The doctor sits at her desk, a pencil in her hand and a blank piece of paper in front of her.

"Widowmaker. Have you come to say hello, or do you need something of me?"

Blunt, with the sarcastic edge typical of the doctor.

"Heal me," she says flatly, her voice raw from the sore throat she currently dealt with.

The doctor stands, turning her body in Widowmaker's direction. Her eyes stare blankly ahead, and Widowmaker remembers the doctor's lack of natural vision.

Still, she'd much rather stare at those eyes rather than her vile mask. It sits next to the blank paper on the desk.

"You've fallen ill? Do you need an amputation, or organ removal?"

She says it very seriously, and it makes Widowmaker... unsettled.

"I have a cold, doctor."

"You know how to take care of that. Bedrest. Lots of it, Widowmaker."

She crosses her arms over her chest, frowning.

"Hm... well, while you're here, you can help me with an experiment."

"...Experiment?"

"I'd like to fix my eyes, yes? After deep investigation, I've come to the conclusion I suffer from glaucoma- perhaps cataracts. Difficult to cure, but I'm interested in trying."

"You... don't have the tools, doctor."

"That is where you're wrong. Easily, I can drain the collected film from my eyes with a sharp object-"

"This sounds like a flimsy argument in favor of blinding yourself completely. Stick to your visor, doctor. Do not be an idiot."

She watches the doctor visibly wilt, and for a moment she feels something like remorse, but it fades too quickly to note.

"...Perhaps."

She sits back down in their chair, sighing heavily.

"I'd love to look at the world with my own eyes. I feel as though the visor..."

Widowmaker wants to smack the doctor. Whatever she was about to say, surely she could be punished for it.

"...No, I lost my train of thought. Very well, Widowmaker- leave me at peace."

She flicks her wings dismissively, and Widowmaker promptly leaves.

***

Another mission, more faulty intel, more fights.

The doctor is in the middle of the fighting this time, a gun in her hand. She's a hell of a shot, and many fall to the might of her deadly blaster.

Still, she isn't perfect, and accidents happen. It's a stray bullet that hits her in the visor, just below the bridge of her nose.

It rattles her, and it's enough for a soldier to spin her and slam the butt of their gun into the visor. It sparks, cracks, and breaks in half, and the doctor falls.

She scrambles with the straps, trying to get the broken thing off her head- when she feels a heavy weight on her chest.

"Time for the doctor to retire," the soldier spits, boot sliding to her neck. With a little more pressure, the doctor is scrabbling at the soldier's foot, choking.

"This slow death is for the horror you caused at Gibral-"

The doctor gasps for air as the weight removes itself suddenly. She scrambles to her knees, one hand clutching her neck.  
She feels along the ground, bits and pieces of her visor recognizable under her fingers.

'No... no...!'

She was blind without it. It was just a matter of time before someone grabbed her, killed her-

She wheezes as someone scoops her off the ground, the stone cold skin a dead giveaway as to who it was.

"W... Wid..."

"Do not speak," Widowmaker orders as she swings up to a rooftop. She lays the doctor on the ground, frowning at the red mark of the boot on her neck.

The soldier breathed no more, but Widowmaker wishes she could kill him again for this.

"I'll come back when the fighting clears."

"No," the doctor chokes out, gripping blindly onto Widowmaker's calf.

"Please- don't leave me alone... I'm... blind... my visor..."

Widowmaker gives a half hearted tug of her leg, hoping the doctor might let go. She does not.

Widowmaker weighs her options briefly. Sit here with the doctor, useless to the mission- or leave. She glances at the doctor again, pathetic and weak without her vision.

"Take my hand," she says finally, and the doctor blindly reaches for Widowmaker.

She practically drags her over to the edge of the building, allowing the doctor to take shelter behind her scope.

"Lay low. Do not move."

The doctor rests her cheek on Widowmaker's thigh, wincing at the lack of warmth there.

Widowmaker simply takes up a position on the roof, picking off overwatch agents one at a time.

The trembling of the doctor against her body doesn't waver her aim; then again, nothing could.

***

The aftermath of the fight is... unfortunate.

The doctor is seized and taken away, something Widowmaker herself endured at the beginning of her time with Talon.

She'll be punished for sure- for imperfection, for failure.

Widowmaker thinks she's sympathetic, but such an emotion is unrecognizable to her at this point.

***

The doctor's punishment seems to be another, improved mask- stronger, more durable. It comes with a price. It cannot be removed without a second person to help.

Widowmaker feels compelled to visit her after the mask is implemented.

She's staring out the small window in her quarters. Widowmaker notes the added straps and metal bits at the back of her head, holding the thing in place.

"Doctor."

"Widowmaker. What do you need from me today? I'm sure I won't be of much assistance right now."

Widowmaker isn't sure how to respond.

"You said once you hate this mask," the doctor says after a heavy silence, "I'm beginning to agree with you."

"It gives you sight," Widowmaker offers, but she can't deny the grotesqueness of it, now more than ever.

"What is sight if it's not your own?"

Her words are cryptic. Widowmaker doesn't bother trying to decipher them.

"I am The Doctor," the woman laments, "I give life to corpses, but it's nothing more than puppetry. I heal no one, but I feel..."

She lifts a hand to the window, and Widowmaker finally realizes she's not looking at the landscape- she's staring at herself.

"...No, I've lost my train of thought."

***

Widowmaker hates the doctor.

She hates her because, for some unfathomable reason, she is drawn to her.

Drawn to the vile character of a creature who exists only to raise disposable armies, who is as silent as death itself in a fight.

The mask does not come off.

The doctor speaks less each day.

Still, Widowmaker is drawn to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, this is mostly for a friend so I'm cranking it out pretty quickly.
> 
>  
> 
> Follow me on tumblr @ kinggaydorah


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably last update until next week, I have AP exams and a job,,
> 
> Thanks for all the kudos and comments thus far, I didn't really expect this much interest in anything I've written so quickly. I read all my comments, I promise! They put smiles on my face uvu

Many missions later, and Widowmaker finds herself alone on another rooftop in another city, with only the doctor to keep her company.

She is silent, deathly still- just like her, Widowmaker thinks.

'Perhaps worse,' she adds.

"Doctor," Widowmaker says, never looking from her scope, "who are you?"

Widowmaker is met with silence.

"Doctor."

"I am the Doctor. No more, no less."

Her voice sounds rough, as if she's not used it in weeks. Widowmaker feels a subtle urgency to tell her something, something that's been on her mind.

"Doctor. May I tell you something," Widowmaker says, finally lowering her gun. She keeps a steady watch over the street below.

She takes the doctor's silence as a yes.

"I feel something, when I am near you."

"..."

"I believe it is... comfort. I am comfortable in your presence, Doctor."

For the first time in weeks, the Doctor's lips twitch upwards in a small smile.

"I cannot say I feel the same, Widowmaker. You are a thing whose sole purpose is to kill. I will never find comfort in someone so close with death."

Widowmaker doesn't take offense to that. It's true.

"If I am close with death, you dance with it. You play it like a game. Death means nothing to you, yes? It means nothing to me. It's a means to get the job done. We're of the same breed, Doctor. Wether you like it or not."

She's silent for a long, long time- and then, the Doctor replies "...Yes. I'd say we are."

***

The doctor enters Widowmaker's room some days after that, holding the sides of her mask.

"Doctor."

She approaches Widowmaker where she sits on her bed, reading.

"...Help me."

Widowmaker knows what she's asking for, knows she wants that ghastly thing off her head.

She knows she shouldn't help her, shouldn't bother with such a thing that will just end up back on her face, but she puts her book down regardless.

"Back to me," Widowmaker says, and the doctor sits besides her. A gentle touch is enough to tell the doctor to lower her cybernetic wings, giving her a clear view at the bindings. Widowmaker's fingers are deft in undoing each measure set in place to keep the thing on, until finally-

The mask falls into the doctor's lap. She takes a deep breath, stretches, and to Widowmaker's surprise, falls backwards into her.

She catches her, the warmth of the hard light feathers against her body sending a bizarre shockwave up her spine.

"Doctor-"

"Am I too much?"

Widowmaker blinks, staring into the doctor's blind eyes.

"...In a manner of speaking."

The doctor smiles. It's one that reaches her eyes.

"It's like a weight is lifted from my shoulders. A moment to enjoy the peace and quiet."

Something about that sounds all too familiar to Widowmaker.

"Probably just a moment, though."

***

The doctor comes to Widowmaker periodically for a respite from the mask. She falls back into Widowmaker's arms without fail, and Widowmaker doesn't care enough to shove the doctor away.

"You're very cold, Widowmaker," the doctor says one day, "Medically speaking, you should be dead."

"And yet I live."

"You've piqued my interest lately. In a way, I'd say you even fascinate me. Maybe, I'm even obsessed with you."

Widowmaker's lips twitch, coming dangerously close to a tiny smile.

"What of me could interest you," Widowmaker states more than asks, but mercy answers her anyway.

"You are... exquisite, truly," the doctor says, raising a hand to rest on Widowmaker's cheek.

"Exquisite," Widowmaker echoes. The way the doctor says the word reminds her of something far off, something... good- but too far in the past, too clouded to remember clearly.

"Yes, exquisite," the doctor says, shifting to lay on her stomach. Widowmaker leans back, more out of politeness than anything. She's sure the doctor wouldn't enjoy Widowmaker's breasts directly in her face. Still, the doctor rests her hand on Widowmaker's hip.

"I'm hard of sight, forgive me-"

"You don't need to remind me, doctor."

The doctor quietly laughs, and Widowmaker thinks it's a pleasant sound. Again, familiar.

"Your hip?" The doctor asks, squeezing gently.

"Yes," Widowmaker replies, blinking as the doctor's hand travels up her side.

"Shoulder, then?"

"Yes."

Up her neck, her hand comes to rest on her cheek.

She's warm, Widowmaker thinks, and she barely moves as the doctor leans closer. Her eyes aren't focused, they can't be, but her brow is creased with something between concentration and confusion.

"Doctor..."

"Please, Widowmaker-"

Widowmaker rests a hand on the doctor's shoulder.

The doctor's brow furrows further. She leans closer, closer-

And then her lips are on Widowmaker's, barely, but there. It's too familiar, too warm- the doctor's body so close to hers was suddenly suffocating.

Widowmaker pulls away, overwhelmed.

The doctor retreats, sitting up. She looks more confused than hurt.

"Doctor."

"I don't know why I did that," she admits, her eyes falling shut.

"I know you. I know I do- somehow. Before I was... this," she says, motioning to her whole body.

"I don't know... how. I don't remember anything before the mask. But I know, I know you. Widowmaker."

Widowmaker is silent for a long minute.

"Widowmaker," the doctor says again, the inflection in her voice making Widowmaker wonder if she thinks she's left. The doctor reaches out, and Widowmaker takes her hand.

"...Doctor. Do not dwell on the past."

It's more of a warning than an attempt to comfort her.

"But-"

"Nothing," Widowmaker cuts her off, "the past brings unnecessary emotions. Your emotions make you vulnerable. As a Talon operative, you do not want to be vulnerable."

The doctor seems as though she wants to argue with her, but she nods in defeat.

"Yes, you're right... I... apologize."

She puts her head down. Widowmaker can tell she's still contemplating... whatever compelled the doctor to kiss her.

Widowmaker reaches out to her, her hand hesitating by the doctor's cheek. Another silent minute, Widowmaker lifts the doctor's chin with a gentle hand. She gazes intently at the doctor's unseeing eyes, perhaps searching for something there.

"You must remember something- you are as drawn to me as I am to you. Do you know something?"

"..."

"Widowmaker," the doctor says, grabbing hold of the sniper's forearm, "answer me. Honestly."

Widowmaker's focus shifts down to the doctor's face, to her mouth. Absently, her thumb swipes over the doctor's lower lip.

"I cannot tell you what I don't know. I am drawn to you, yes- but for what reason... is beyond me."

"..."

The doctor looks pathetic, clearly disappointed with Widowmaker's answer. Widowmaker doesn't have the words to comfort her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How many times am I gonna say they're drawn to each other aha,,
> 
> I have more in store, just let me finish these stupid ap exams, should be back around the 10th (or sooner if I procrastinate by writing)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhhhh yeah I'm actually still on vacation but like mercymaker yk
> 
> Sorry it's late and WOW lots of people have read my work I'm kind of shocked
> 
> Thanks for all the comments and bookmarks and kudos!!! Stuffs gonna start happening now ;)

Despite the kissing incident, the doctor and Widowmaker carry on as though it didn't happen.

The doctor, as per Widowmaker's recommendation, doesn't press the issue of her origins anymore.

It's another afternoon where the doctor rests against Widowmaker's lap, the mask laying discarded by her hip. The doctor looks serene, at peace in the fading afternoon light.

Ignorance is bliss, Widowmaker thinks. She rests her hand against the doctor's cheek. The doctor leans into it, a small smile lifting the corners of her lips.

"Doctor."

"Widowmaker," the doctor hums, opening her eyes. The near gray of her irises puts Widowmaker off once again.

The conversation dies there.

***

There's whispers within the Talon base of a vital mission to take place soon.

Such a rumor is only perpetuated with the appearance of a mercenary, one cloaked in black. He's as mysterious as the night, a dangerous and nearly wild aura radiating from him.

Known only as The Reaper, he terrifies underlings with his owl-like mask and hefty shotguns.

Widowmaker speaks with him only twice. She finds him... interesting, but not worth her time. His voice is unpleasant to listen to, to say the least.

More than once she thinks she sees him spying on the doctor, following her- but perhaps it's coincidence.

***

The rumors of such a mission prove true.

"Doomfist's gauntlet?" The doctor asks, voice low. They were leaving a classified mission briefing.

"It's valuable," is all Widowmaker says. Black mist swirls their feet, continuing down the hall.

"...I've never seen him before."

"Reaper. Mercenary," Widowmaker responds.

"How can he...?"

"I don't know myself."

***

The mission was to be carried out on the ground by Widowmaker, Reaper, and the Doctor. No more, no less.

Widowmaker makes no comment on the structure of the mission- to attack in broad daylight seemed incredibly foolish, though they were assured a brilliant hacker was to disable all security measures in the museum.

"We're stealing... from a museum. One dedicated to a defunct criminal group," the doctor hums on their helicopter ride.

"Overwatch," Reaper drawls. Widowmaker sees the doctor jump at the mercenary's sudden input.

"Don't remember it, Doc?"

Reaper's voice drips with what Widowmaker can describe only as malice.

"..."

"Talon sure did a number on you. And it's not even close to what you deserve."

"Reaper," Widowmaker cuts in, "what are you talking about?"

Reaper turns to Widowmaker. His mask gives nothing away.

"...Right. Looks like you're the same way."

Widowmaker pretends she's not interested in his ominous talk.

However she may appear, Reaper's words send a chill down her spine, one of... dread? Perhaps. Fear, like any other emotion, is difficult to catch in Widowmaker's mind.

***

They're dropped off some blocks away from the museum in hopes of keeping up the appearance of a quick infiltration.  
The glass roof was near bulletproof. They'd enter through the front door, and leave once their hacker friend opens a window for them.

Easily, the three cover the remaining distance to the museum.

Reaper keeps the lead, with the Doctor taking up the back. They're a block from the museum when she hears it.

Quick gunshots by her feet, lithe footsteps and a giggle. Tracer.

"Where ya goin', love?"

Widowmaker spins around, shooting at the girl- dangerously close to hitting the doctor in the process. Tracer blinks to the doctor, who tries to swipe at her with her with a wing. She misses, and Tracer dances around her.

"You're a scary one, huh!"

Widowmaker raises her gun to shoot at Tracer, but the sound of electricity behind her distracts her. Reaper was dodging electricity, the source- a Gorilla with what appeared to be some sort of electric gun.

"What-?!"

The deep red of the doctor's bullets pass by Widowmaker, hitting the gorilla in the shoulder. The bullets did nothing except succeed in distracting the massive beast.

It lunges for them, and Widowmaker quickly ducks out of the way. The beast nearly swipes at the doctor with it's forearm, but stops when Tracer calls to him.

"Winston! Reaper's heading to the museum!"

The gorilla-Winston, rather-growls, jumping away to follow Tracer.

Widowmaker rushes after them, but pauses when she doesn't sense the doctor behind her.

"..."

She turns around to see the doctor seemingly stunned.

"Doctor."

"I can't do it," she says so quietly, Widowmaker barely hears her.

"What?"

"I... can't fight. I can't do it."

"Non, doctor. You must. We must."

She turns to walk away, but the doctor's shrill protest stops her.

"No! I can't. I won't. I refuse."

Widowmaker just blinks, contemplating.

What a burden.

"Fine. I'll fight them. But you must come with me. Act like you'll fight them. Talon won't know the difference."

They would, especially if the mission fails. But as troublesome as the doctor was, she still couldn't leave her.

"...Fine."

With that, they make haste to the museum. It's an easy grapple hook away to the roof of the place, with the doctor following close behind on deep red wings.

Already, there's a hole in the glass ceiling where Winston and Reaper must have crashed through.

'Not quite gorilla proof,' she thinks.

"Come."

Widowmaker descends into the museum, gun at the ready. She sees a black mist swirling away from an enraged Winston.

"Gott..." the doctor breathes, startling as a flurry of bullets slams into the tip of her mechanical wing. She winces, pain seeping into the appendage.

"Hm, you've got a wingspan!" Tracer giggles, and it sounds right next to the doctor's ear.

The doctor shakes her head, spinning to the source of Tracer's voice. She barely sees her blink away, towards an exhibit- probably to hide behind.

"Widowmaker-"

The doctor turns, surprised to see Widowmaker grappling away to Doomfist's gauntlet. At least the mission was going well, even with all the disruptions.

She readies herself to follow Widowmaker, when she's suddenly brought to the ground by a hand on her ankle.

She falls, yelping as she's dragged away swiftly.

A black mist swirls around her, invading her lungs. The doctor chokes, struggling to free herself and breathe clean air.

She's close to passing out when the hand lets go of her ankle, and instead grips onto the back of her neck. Claws dig into her skin, hoisting her off the ground- and she's tossed against a wall.

She wheezes, breathing labored from the assault of the mist and now the stabbing pain coming from her hurt wings.

"Well, Doc. Doesn't this seem familiar," a deep growl reaches the doctor's ears. She gasps, her eyes focusing in the dim light of the hidden corner of the museum.

"R... Reap..."

"Now, don't say a word. Don't ruin this for me by pleading."

She's stunned by the sound of a shotgun blast. It's deafenining. Her head snaps back, a fearsome weight slamming into her masked face.

Another. Another.

Her optics fail, and she's plunged into darkness.

Another shot. One more.

She cries out as Reaper's foot slams up into her visor, finally breaking it into pieces.

"There," she hears Reaper chuckle distantly, "that's a pretty face. Don't scream, Doc. You don't have the ti- agh!"

She's blind to the confrontation in front of her, as Tracer stops Reaper with blasts to his back. He dematerializes, rushing away in a cloud of mist.

"Bastard," Tracer growls, knowing she can't hurt Reaper in his wraith form. She turns to the doctor, stunned by what she sees.

"Impossible...!"

The doctor remains motionless, seemingly awaiting a death that fled seconds ago.

"Angela Ziegler-?! Mercy?!"

The doctor could barely see or hear Tracer- but if she could, she might have cried, or yelled, or have no reaction at all.

The names Tracer called her meant nothing, couldn't mean something to someone who had no memory of the past.


	5. Chapter 5

With a roar and a pounding of his chest, Winston watches as Widowmaker and Reaper flee.

One, two, and... where was the third one?

"Probably hiding," he grumbles, but the third one was harmless. Her blaster did very little damage to his suit. No need to worry, he thinks to himself. But there is one thing to worry about...

Winston exhales as he returns to his broken glasses on the floor. He huffs as he takes a seat, picking up the mangled frame. He's fixed them before, but... well... they've never been broken this bad.

He places the frames in his pocket, a dull ache in his chest as he reminisces on the past-

"Winston!" Tracer breaks through his thoughts, nearly crashing into the gorilla's side.

"Good job, Tracer- now, lets just find that-"

"Mercy!" She pants, nearly doubling over.

Winston blinks, getting to his feet.

"...Excuse me?"

"It's Mercy- Angela," she wheezes out, motioning rapidly to the balcony she came from.

"This... isn't the time for jokes-"

"Winston!" Tracer grabs his shoulder firmly, and it startles him. 

"It's her. It's really her."

He looks at her, sees the tears already pooling in her eyes, and knows she isn't lying.

***

The doctor can't move. She's in shock, terrified and alone. Reaper's words ring in her ears, her heart thudding with each syllable.

And who was this girl, screaming about mercy?

What mercy has the doctor been shown today?

"I... I can't..."

She hears a deep voice say, and it makes her jump. It could be Reaper, it could be- it could be anyone... how could the doctor ever know? She throws herself away from the voice, praying that she might be able to crawl away.

She screams as a large hand wraps around her middle, picking her up. She struggles, but it's no use. She tries to free herself from the offender's grasp, but it's impossible- especially when they start moving, and she's thrown over what she recognizes as the gorilla's shoulder.

"N-no- no, Widowmaker!" She cries, fists slamming into Winston's back, "don't let them take me! Don't- don't leave me alone! Please! Widowmaker!"

***

Widowmaker curses herself as she limps towards the Talon retrieval helicopter. She knows she'll be punished for this, but she finds herself worried for the doctor-

Widowmaker freezes, one foot in the helicopter.

"Doctor?"

She turns, looks across the rooftops. Empty.

Not a soul to be found.

"Doctor?" She calls again, louder. Where did she leave her-?!

"Doctor!" she shouts, rushing back towards the museum. She doesn't get far.

Black mist swirls by her feet. Reaper materializes in her way, stopping her in her tracks.

"Where are you going," he growls.

"It doesn't concern you," she spits back. She just... wants to get back to the museum, find the doctor-

Was she... feeling impatient?

"The helicopter is the other way," Reaper informs her.

"I am going somewhere else."

"And where would that be?..." Reaper steps closer to Widowmaker, lowering his head.

"Are you going back to find the Doctor, Widowmaker?"

Widowmaker doesn't back down. She glares daggers back at him.

"You won't find her. She was taken by Overwatch."

Widowmaker's leer falters.

"...What?"

"What," Reaper mocks, "are you worried about her? She'll be killed for her crimes. Simple as that. Turn around, and get in the helicopter, Widowmaker," Reaper orders.

Widowmaker looks away, over Reaper's shoulder- back in the direction of the museum. The doctor was in immediate, true danger- all because Widowmaker left her alone.

But that must have been the plan. Why else would they send the doctor on such a mission? She could barely defend herself. Yes, she would have been useful with her healing capabilities- but they shouldn't have expected such a fight.

Unless...

She narrows her eyes, searching Reaper's mask for something- anything-

"Did you plan this?" She finds herself asking.

Reaper doesn't respond. He fades into a mist, passing through Widowmaker. She shudders, a chill running down her back.

Widowmaker takes one, indecisive step towards the museum. Could she even take Winston and Tracer by herself?

No. She couldn't. They'd be on guard already. It would be futile.

Decision made, she reluctantly turns and walks back to the helicopter.

***

"What are we going to do, Winston?..."

"We need to evaluate the alterations Talon made to her. We need to... we need to see if we can reverse what they've done."

Slowly, the doctor blinks awake. It all felt like a bad dream... she should be waking up to a gentle hand on her cheek, cold skin against her own-

Instead, she awakes to nothing. The dark is oppressive, and she's cold all over.

The doctor lies on her belly, incredibly uncomfortable. She tries to sit up, but she's... locked? To a table?

"W-What's going on?" She breathes, panic and fear seeping into her bones again.

"Winston-!"

"Stop, Tracer- we need to be... careful."

The doctor thrashes wildly, as much as her current situation will allow- trying to escape her confines.

"Who's there?! Let me go!"

"Doctor Ziegler," Winston's gruff voice reaches her ears, "Could you-"

"I am only the doctor," she corrects him, teeth grit, "I have no name."

There's a heavy silence.

"...Doctor, then. Please, just answer a few questions, and we'll let you go," Winston finally says.

The doctor wants to fight, demand to know what the gorilla meant by 'we,' but she bites her tongue.

"Doctor, could you tell us how you ended up with Talon?"

The doctor scowls, still straining against her bindings.

"I have always been under Talon's care."

There's another long silence. The doctor hears muffled sobs coming from somewhere.

"..."

"Is that all? Let me go, this instant!"

"... no, Mercy. We can't do that just yet," Winston sighs.

The name sounds familiar, but just beyond the doctor's reach in her mind. She's about to inquire about the name, but she hears heavy footsteps come closer to her.

"What are you...?!"

"Hold still," Winston orders, and the doctor cries out as a needle slips into her arm. She jerks back, her wings splaying out. The hardlight feathers turn razor sharp, and she hears Winston shout.

"Damn...!"

"Winston, are you- okay?"

The doctor recognizes the voice as the girl from the museum. The one who... stopped Reaper? Yes, she stopped Reaper.

From the injection point, she feels numbness spread up her arm- into her chest, torso, head...

She falls limp against the table, unable to move. She remains very much awake, and very much aware.

"She cut me," Winston growls. The doctor can't see the way Winston glares at her wings.

"We'll have to remove those hardlight mechanisms. They're a danger."

The doctor, unable to protest, pleads in her head- please, don't touch them.

"Tracer, please send in the medical staff. We have work to do."

***

Its long. Agonizing.

The doctor is awake for all of it.

She's almost too numb to feel what they do. Almost.

The way they move her wings around, the bizarre dull pain of the hardlight feathers being plucked one by one, the way they twist and pull at her face to evaluate her blind eyes, the way they prod her spine, the x-rays-

It's degrading. To be touched, constrained and examined like... like some kind of animal.

The most degrading part is when they finish. They strip her and change her into a flimsy hospital gown, and leave her on the table. She's left to sober up.

The doctor feels like she's dead. She can't figure out when she finally passes out.

***

The doctor awakens on a hard bed, barren of sheets or even a pillow. Briefly, she forgets what happened. She stays still, evaluating.

'I... was... taken. By Overwatch. They want something from me.'

She tries to sit up, but cries out at the pain shooting along her wings and shoulders. She grits her teeth and lies flat again, keeping her wings still.

'They've... taken my... feathers,' she adds.

"Angela. You're awake."

The voice startles her. It's male, a thick... Japanese accent lacing his words. Still, he sounds... robotic.

"..."

"Do you remember me?"

The doctor doesn't respond.

"My name is Genji. We've met many years ago now."

"We have never met," the doctor says definitively. She's wary of this... person? They could be an omnic. She can't tell.

"We have. I was brought to you, minutes from death. You healed me, and gave me a second chance at life."

"I did no such thing. I would... I would remember something like that."

Yes, something in the doctor tells her she would never forget saving a life. Has she ever done that?

She's given hollow life, to disposable armies- but... to save a real, true life? No. She would never forget that.

"Angela..."

"Who is Angela?"

After a tense silence, she hears the distinct movement of omnic joints. She hears his footsteps become quieter as he leaves her vicinity.

"... Wait. Genji, was it?"

"Angela?"

"Tell me," the doctor says, ignoring the maybe-human, maybe- omnic's response, "just... where am I?"

"You are... home."

The doctor blinks, taken off guard by Genji's answer.

"...Home?"

"You are safe. Talon will never reach you again."

His words send pricks of irritation along her spine. Talon... Talon was harsh, strict, but never without reason towards her. Widowmaker was with Talon. Talon was not bad, and she would return to them. It was her duty as a loyal Talon operative.

"You're an Overwatch agent," she says flatly, figuring it out, "I cannot trust you. I won't."

"Angela..."

"Leave."

She hears Genji exit through a door. The doctor exhales against the flat bed she found herself on.

"I... I must get out of here."

Surely... what happened with Reaper was...

A shudder runs down the doctor's back. Reaper...

The scene replays vividly in her head, the sound of shotgun barrels emptying into her mask replaying over and over. She flinches.

"..."

Where was Widowmaker to save her? Why did she leave her alone?

***

Widowmaker finds herself unable to sleep following the museum mission. She stares blankly up at her ceiling, hands crossed over her stomach.

The doctor... was gone. For good, perhaps.

Such a thought makes Widowmaker sit up, brow furrowed in... unease? Discomfort?

Never again would she hear the doctor ask her to help remove her mask. Never again would the doctor fall back into her arms, or caress her cheek.

Her stomach lurches, and she swallows hard. She feels as though she might vomit.

This is not the first time she's felt as though something clawed at her chest, straining to be free- though, admittedly, such a feeling is dulled considerably to her now. Still, she recognizes it.

"Ah..." she hisses, her eyes narrowing. Her body felt heavy, as though she was bogged down by a huge weight. She squeezes her eyes tight, jaw set.

She startles as she feels her eyes burn. Widowmaker swipes a hand across her cheek, and finds it wet when she pulls it away.

Was... she crying?

"Oh..."

She isn't sure when she last cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm honestly real hyped about reaching 1,000 hits..... thanks for all the support!!
> 
> Okay so it's gonna get sad for a while and then happy so bear with me kk
> 
> ALSO also also pls look at this incredible art @1500birds made https://spizellas.tumblr.com/post/161120561881/so-im-super-into-lazyshulks-talon-mercymaker-au I've stared at it ever since I saw it  
> It's amaaaaazingggggggg


	6. Chapter 6

"I'm not entirely sure if it's... possible to retrieve Dr. Ziegler," Winston says solemnly. To hide what he believes from the panel would be futile- taking one look at the doctor proves his point.

Blind, completely loyal to talon- what could they do to help her?

"Then the decision is made," Jack says, leering out the window, "its inhumane to keep her alive."

"I know she's in there," Genji insists, "I can see it. I can sense it. She's trapped, in her own mind- like Amélie Lacroix!"

"That's a very... bold statement," Ana crosses her arms, "there's no evidence to support that claim. Lacroix is dead."

"You're wrong," Genji argues. He pauses, trying to work on his response- no, he shouldn't bring up Ana's hatred for Widowmaker. Biased as she is, her point remains more accepted then his. He knows he can prove his point- his words are just failing him.

"And how is she wrong, Genji? What can you show us about that creature that we cannot see," Hanzo's voice is scathing.

"Must we refer to Doctor Ziegler in such a manner? She is still a human being," Zenyatta retorts. His mentor's words are appreciated. They offer him a second more to collect his thoughts.

"She is a terrorist!" Ana shakes her head.

"She is a prisoner of war, forced to carry out heinous acts," Zenyatta reminds them.

"She is trapped inside, just like Lacroix," Genji finally says, standing up.

"Angela, she researched the brainwashing- she worked on Lacroix's case."

"She didn't have access to those files," Jack refutes.

"No, she did. She did!" Genji hits the table, swearing under his breath.

"She worked closely with Blackwatch."

"Angela Ziegler was Overwatch personnel," Ana leans forward, lacing her fingers together, "if she worked with Blackwatch, she would be doing so in secret."

Genji can recall only one time he had walked in on Gabriel and Angela speaking in hushed voices. The second they saw him, Angela gathered her things and left- but she and Genji were close, and she disclosed what they were discussing as she performed routine diagnostics on his machinery later in the week.

He closes his eyes, remembering-

***

"I'm going to get Amélie back," she whispered, checking each vent on his left shoulder.

"What?"

"With Blackwatch help, it's possible- I know it is. All of the information they have on Talon, their brainwashing tactics- I'll solve the damned puzzle they've locked her in," she answers, voice barely audible.

"Angela-"

"You mustn't tell anyone," she insists, "not a soul. Please, Genji. I could be fired for this type of research."

She sets each vent in place, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. He looks at her, sees the determination in her eyes- and he can only nod.

"Of course. Please, be careful."

***

"Blackwatch supplied information on Talon, and on Lacroix! Gabriel gave her full access. She was working to 'get her back,' she said."

"That doesn't convince me that Angela is still alive in the Doctor. If anything, it only explains why Talon put a mark on her head," Ana leers.

"No, it proves that she believed Lacroix could be saved. If we could find her research, if we could find where she left off...!"

"Impossible," Jack cuts him off, finally turning around, "all of that kind of data would have been in Geneva, or on Ziegler. I don't have to remind you what Talon did to Ziegler's apartment."

No, he doesn't. The whole apartment building, leveled in an explosion- Angela was presumed dead until whispers started going around Blackwatch personnel. Genji exhales, growing irate.

He takes a deep breath and removes his face plate. Running a hand over his scarred face, he looks around the table.

"We cannot kill Angela like... like... like she's some kind of animal. For what she's done for everyone here, we need to try. Try and save her from the prison Talon may or may not have forced her into. For fuck's sake, it's the least we can do!"

Genji breathes hard, the effort of speaking without his face plate immense. With one last look to Jack, he slides the metal back over his face. He sits down.

Silence.

Jack stands, still as a statue. Ana sighs, peering at the acting commander through the corner of her eye.

"Your orders?"

"Damn it all. I'm giving you a month to figure it out, Winston. After that... we'll reassess. This meeting is over."

***

Pain.

Pain and silence is all the Doctor has known for the last three days.

Even when an agent brings her food, they say nothing.

The bare frame of her wings makes her feel naked, vulnerable- the things were vestigial without the feathers.

The mechanics still buzzed and sparked when she moved them, the energy output never adjusted for the lack of hardlight receptors. Pain shoots along her back with each movement of her shoulders, the feedback too much.

As she lies motionless on her hard bed, she finds herself too exhausted and upset to cry. Hunger gnaws her stomach periodically, but she can't bring herself to make the five foot journey to the food on the ground.

How she longed to be back at Talon, back with Widowmaker-

She makes a noise, a pained one as her wings spark again.

'I didn't move that time,' she laments, 'why did they have to take my feathers...'

Why did they have to take me, she thinks somberly.

She can only lie there, and pray- pray that Talon finds her location, and rescues her soon.

***

It's gunfire that wakes Widowmaker up from a light, dreamless sleep. All thoughts of the emotional night she had leave her at once- potentially, Talon headquarters is being attacked.

She's up in an instant, gun in hand. She picks up the nearest article of clothing, which she bitterly notes as one of the Doctor's coats. Widowmaker recalls her leaving it here, the last time she visited Widowmaker's quarters.

It's marred with dried blood. Widowmaker can't recall where the blood came from.

She slides it on, telling herself it was faster then getting into her bodysuit. It covered her from shoulder to mid thigh, and for the moment, it will do. She exits, peering down the hallway. It's empty.

"Merde," she curses, retreating back to her quarters for her visor. She makes haste to the end of the hall, towards the elevators. Pausing by the elevator, she listens.

Distantly, she can hear faint footsteps.

She rushes the stairwell, heading down to the main area- peering through the tiny window in the door. She sees blood, and a few bodies of some unfortunate Talon grunts.

'...Ah,' she thinks, 'my suspicions were correct.'

Her ears perk, the sound of deft footsteps passing by the stairwell door.

They pause. Widowmaker keeps still, ducking behind the wall. When she looks back at the window, she sees no one.

The footsteps continue, and someone calls the elevator. She listens, concludes the elevator ascends, and follows it.

'I wonder who it is, perhaps Overwatch?'

But how could they know where Talon's headquarters were?

'The Doctor,' she thinks, and it makes her chest tighten. Did they torture that information out of her? This quickly?

Her grip on her gun tightens. She'll kill anyone who so much as looks like Overwatch personnel.

Widowmaker grits her teeth when she realizes exactly where the invader is heading- to the Talon director's room, inaccessible by the stairs. She'd need to get there some other way.

Exiting on the final landing, she calls an elevator. This floor lies mostly abandoned- it was intended for Talon projects such as Widowmaker and the Doctor, but with neither of them needing what they called 'maintenance,' it remains barren of personnel.

The elevator dings, and she wastes no time in breaking open the service hatch on the ceiling. Just one more climb, and she'd be at the uppermost floor. Scaling the cables, she swings to the elevator doors. She's about to pry them open when-

"-For the last time, Sombra! I said no!"

Widowmaker freezes, Akande's deep voice startling her.

"You let my project get taken, and I'm supposed to sit by and let that happen? What sort of business are you running, Doomfist?!"

Widowmaker deflates, the tension seeping out of her body.

Of course it was Sombra. Exiled, shamed Sombra.

"Whatever agreement you made with Vialli in regards to your 'project'- it no longer applies. Do you understand?"

Widowmaker hears Sombra take a deep breath.

"...Alright, Akande. Listen to me. You do not want to make an enemy out of me. You will help me get my Doctor back, or so help me I'll destroy you," Sombra growls. Widowmaker blinks, her eyes widening.

"You don't frighten me, girl. You don't need Talon to get your abomination back."

"She isn't an abomination. She helped you win fights in Gibraltar, Venice, and France! She's a perfect killing machine! I demanded her back after you kicked me off the council, but you wouldn't give her to me. Then, you kicked me out of the organization! You kept her, even though you knew she belonged to me. Now, you let her get taken by Overwatch! This isn't about you helping me- this is about you giving me what I deserved in the first place!"

"She failed the mission herself! If she was the 'perfect killing machine,' she wouldn't have gotten captured. You deserve nothing from this organization. You are a deceitful, disgusting creature. You're lucky I let you live after your interference with the Volskaya mission. I'm starting to see my mercy as a mistake," Akande snarls.

"I agree, Akande! It was a mistake letting me live! Want to try and rectify it?" Sombra laughs bitterly, "I don't care about your mercy. I just want my Mercy back!"

"Then get her yourself! I don't care about you, or your terrible science experiments!"

"You're going to regret this, Ogundimu!"

Widowmaker listens to a pixelated sound, and then the elevator to her right starts moving. Without hesitation, she descends down the cable, into the elevator, and rushes down the stairs.

Widowmaker makes it there before the elevator does. She waits, tense- She worked with Sombra a handful of times, but there was clearly more to this girl then she could have known.

The elevator dings, but no one walks out.

Or, one that Widowmaker can see.

Sombra materializes in front of Widowmaker, peering up at her. Widowmaker isn't sure what to ask first, but it's clear she doesn't have to say anything. Sombra's eyes catch the lab coat. Her angry expression fades to one of amusement.

"...Well, well. So the girl was lying," she hums, prodding at the collar of the coat.

"Well then, Araña," Sombra smiles mischievously, "we'll be in touch."

She pats Widowmaker's cheek, and vanishes in an instant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this was a summer in the making
> 
> I must have rewritten this ten times, hating each approach I tried- I'm content with what this chapter has become, because it isn't the filler I initially thought it would be. It's got some real important plot elements, and.......... stuff.
> 
> Anyway, I'm in college now, I'm a Chem/maybe Biochem major, so this is back to updating sporadically.
> 
> Talk mercymaker 2 me over at @kinggaydorah on tumblr

**Author's Note:**

> I never intended on making this any longer than a short Drabble for a friend, but it ended up getting longer than that so I figured I'd post it.
> 
> Besides, there should be more Mercymaker in this fandom, and even more exploration of what Talon!Mercy would look like.
> 
> Also I apologize for tagging this as Sombra/Widowmaker/Mercy initially, It was a mistake ;( this is 100% Mercymaker only.
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr @lazyshulk


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